


On Family

by Meilan_Firaga



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Dysfunctional Family, Families of Choice, Family, Family Feels, Family Issues, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/pseuds/Meilan_Firaga
Summary: The Black family of Number 12 Grimmauld Place is not the idyllic picture of love and support. As Sirius realizes when he's barely an adolescent, they're rather more like a group of very hateful people that happen to live under the same roof.
Relationships: Sirius Black & James Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: Fic In A Box





	On Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chocolatepot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatepot/gifts).



_ Cousin Narcissa _

Narcissa was the first to make him truly understand that something was off. 

It was his first week at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and Sirius was secretly thrilled to have been placed in a house different from the rest of his family. Mother and Father were thoroughly displeased, as they’d expressed multiple times in the letters he’d received since the sorting. It was hard for Sirius to be too upset with their displeasure, though. For the first time in his life, he had  _ friends _ . 

James was like an entirely different type of brother than Regulus. He was always ready for adventure, and even better: he wanted Sirius to be involved in whatever adventures he got into. They were embarking on just such an adventure when they ran into his older cousin near a hallway that led to the Hogwarts kitchens. She caught them darting from shadow to shadow, laughing about their plan to eat themselves sick on chocolate biscuits.

“That’s quite enough, little cousin,” she crooned, stepping out from behind a statue into the darkened corridor. Narcissa was in her fifth year and already prepared to take her place in the upper echelons of wizarding society. “I’ve had a letter from your mother. Your sorting is embarrassing enough to our family. Sneaking about the castle with this—” she sneered at James “—riff-raff is only going to make it worse.”

_ Father _

By the time he’d been home for three days that first Christmas holiday during his school years, Sirius was determined that he would never leave the castle for the holidays again. From the moment he returned to 12 Grimmauld Place, his heart full of tales of excitement from his first term with James and the others he found himself on the receiving end of his father’s ire. Whether it came at the start, at the end, or somewhere in between every conversation now included a precise expression of Orion Black’s disappointment at having a Gryffindor for a son.

“The Black family has had an unbroken line of Slytherin witches and wizards,” he drawled over breakfast, the morning Prophet in one hand and his cup of tea in the other. “Nearly one thousand years of tradition broken by you.”

“Be certain of your devotion to this family, Regulus,” he said in the parlor where they gathered for ‘family time’ in the evenings, speaking more loudly than addressing only his youngest son would have strictly required. “Your mother and I could never never survive having two sons turn out to be disappointments.”

Sirius was young, and a part of him wanted to do whatever it might take to regain his father’s approval, but when he read letters from James describing a more wholesome and loving holiday experience he understood that he wasn’t the part of his family that was broken.

_ Cousin Bellatrix _

Refusing to return home at Easter hols couldn’t save him from having to return for the summer. His oldest cousin was to be married, and at the insistence of his parents Sirius found himself reluctantly outfitted in his best dress robes. Bellatrix was a haughty, ruthless kind of witch. He’d had no affection for her in his early childhood, and he certainly didn’t have affection for her when her eyes lit upon him while she made her way to the groom and she wrinkled her nose like she’d just seen something very disgusting. Or, well, it might have been his accompaniment that she was sneering at.

“Does she always look like she’d rather be skinning puppies alive?” James whispered directly into his ear. 

Sirius bit his lip to keep from smirking. When his parents told him he’d be going to the wedding whether he liked it or not Sirius had done his most Slytherin action to date: he’d threatened to be an unholy terror throughout the event unless his parents allowed him to invite a friend from school to tag along. Mother and Father stipulated that he’d be allowed if and only if his chosen friend was a pureblood. They forgot to stipulate requirements as to which family his friend must be from.

“I’m fairly certain she’s skinned puppies before.”

_ Mother _

The incident with the Whomping Willow earned him a nasty Howler sent to school. His mother was possessed of a gift for shrieking her hatred with a vehemence and volume that could intimidate any man alive. Everyone at the Gryffindor table winced in sympathy while it raged, and the loudness went down in Hogwarts legend.

It was nothing compared to the screams of rage she leveled upon him the moment he returned home.

He tried not to make note of the words, tried to let it settle in his brain. He’d come to terms years before with her hateful nature. He knew that he shouldn’t let his mother’s terrible opinions affect him, but he couldn’t help but wince with every vicious slur she flung his way. He’d spent so many nights over at James’ home in Godric’s Hollow. Mrs. Potter doted on her son in a way that Sirius had never been lucky enough to experience. She kissed his hair and asked after their mischief making, smiling indulgently even when she was about to reproach them for something they really shouldn’t have been getting into. That was what a mother was meant to be.

His mother was still screaming at his back when Sirius turned and jogged up the stairs. 

_ Regulus _

“You don’t understand!” Regulus hissed in the dark one night. “You’ve never cared what any of them think.”

“You’re not wrong,” Sirius confirmed. He was sprawled over the coverlet of his bed, staring at his younger brother with a mixture of confusion and contempt. Regulus was the spitting image of their father’s teenage portrait that hung in the parlor downstairs, from his sharp cheekbones right down to the silver snake pin he wore on the lapel of his robes each day. “What I can’t understand is why you do.”

Regulus blinked at him, his face twisted into an expression of loathing. “You took the luxury of that choice away from me!” He paced a quick, furious circle on the rug beside the bed. “From the moment you decided that you didn’t want any part of this family I have had to be the  _ perfect son _ .”

Sirius gaped at him, horror-struck to find that his brother thought he was to blame for the actions of their parents.

“What makes it even worse,” Regulus continued, spitting vitriol in a way that reminded Sirius of their mother, “is that you don’t even take responsibility for any of it.” He shook his head, huffing out a bitter hint of laughter. “I hate you.”

_ The Potters _

At the age of sixteen he’d had enough. His exit wasn’t loud or dramatic. It wasn’t even the result of a particularly bad night with his family. Sirius just realized, sitting at the dinner table and ignoring the abuse being heaped in his direction, that he simply couldn’t do it any longer. He went to his bedroom after dinner like always, went straight to his trunk, and started to pack. He made short work of folding his clothes and tucking them in around his books and school supplies. His few picture frames were carefully wrapped in a few shirts and spelled with unbreakable charms. He left the family pictures—save for one worn print of he and Regulus before they'd fallen out.

It was nothing to navigate the climb from his bedroom window to the ground below with the trunk shrunken down in his pocket. He walked three blocks before he flagged down the Knight Bus. They were used to him from all the times he’d gone to stay with the Potters before. They didn’t even ask where he was going.

It was raining by the time he stood on James’ doorstep, his hair plastered to his face. Mrs. Potter opened the door, took one look at him, and immediately spread her arms wide to wrapped him in a hug. He wasn’t sure when he started crying.

“It’s okay, dear,” Mrs. Potter assured him, one hand rubbing up and down his back. “You’ll always family here.”


End file.
